


Bruises

by hollyblue2



Series: one thousand and ninety-four days ‘verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Fingering, Inmate!Cas, M/M, Pain Kink, Poor Dean, Prison AU, Rough Sex, Teasing, but also kinda gentle and so damn slow, but mostly kinda con, dubcon, inmate!dean, post-fight all bruised up sex - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 03:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14126988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyblue2/pseuds/hollyblue2
Summary: “You don’t deserve to be touched by them.” Castiel whispers in his ear before moving to lick at the other shoulder.Dean shivers and squirms under the ministrations. Castiel pulls off Dean's shirt with a gentleness he’s not expecting and he goes to work re-marking over the bruises.





	Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the same verse as the other, but it can also be read as a stand-alone.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful **thatpeculiarone** :D

 

“Stay outta trouble kid,” The guard shakes his head at him and closes the cell door for Dean’s safety. The stitches on his cheeks are well done but they’re beginning to itch as the novocaine wears off.

Dean sits on his top bunk bed uncomfortably, the bruising he received from the other inmates paining his ribs and back.

He’s miserable.

He hadn’t expected the group to target him. Not after nearly eight months in the joint. He rubs his eye and instantly regrets it as the black eye he received gives him a headache. It would be better if he could just sleep even if it was lunch time.

 

“You weren’t at lunch.” Castiel says coming into their room. Dean startles from his doze and peers over the edge of the bed at Castiel.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” Castiel snapped.

“Had a fight.” Dean replies flatly, rolling back over.

“I have a jacket potato in my pocket. Do you want it?”

It’s quiet between them, charged energy sparking in the silence.

“No.” Dean shrugs and hisses as his muscles detest the movement.

“Dean, eat it,”

Dean climbs down to the floor stiffly, hiding his grunt of pain behind a cough. Perching on the edge of the desk, Dean takes the potato (which is barely warm) from Castiel and blows off the pocket fluff. He munches distractedly as he watches Castiel potter around the room, stacking his small collection of books together and fiddling with things that don’t need to be fiddled with.

“Dude, stop.” Dean warns with an eye roll. He takes another bite from the potato and leaves the skin on the desk.

“Who did it to you?” He asks restlessly, a dark look in his eye. He’s seen that look before, back when someone had looked at him with intent and Castiel had caught it.

“Alistair. Gordon. I wasn’t exactly keeping track of faces when they were kicking me in the ribs.” Castiel’s expression darkens further at Dean’s admission and he’s taking strides towards Dean.

Dean flinches as Castiel grabs his t-shirt, pulling it up to inspect the damage. “Fuck. They’ll pay for this.”

“Leave it,” Dean says, grabbing Castiel’s wrist as he starts to inspect Dean’s back.

“Dean—”

“Castiel.” Castiel huffs with a scowl. He pulls at the neck of Dean’s white t-shirt and bends down. Dean feels Castiel’s tongue lathe over a bruise. Dean hums involuntarily and wraps his legs around the back of Castiel’s.

“You don’t deserve to be touched by them.” Castiel whispers in his ear before moving to lick at the other shoulder.

Dean shivers and squirms under the ministrations. Castiel pulls off his shirt with a gentleness he’s not expecting and he goes to work remarking over the bruises. It hurts, a lot, but he lets Castiel do whatever he wants to do to him.

Castiel is mumbling nonsensical threats towards each bruise but Dean doesn’t pay attention, barely focusing on the pain that Castiel is causing.

Castiel’s hand pushes on his chest and Dean goes back, holding his weight up with his arms as Castiel whips off the rest of his jumpsuit and boxers. He’s left naked, legs in the air as Castiel tosses the jumpsuit onto the bottom bunk across the room. Before he can put his legs down and cover himself up from the impromptu stripping, Castiel has Dean’s legs wrapped around his waist and is pulling him towards him.

Dean’s ribs pull and sends pain throughout him when Castiel picks him up and he bites Castiel’s shoulder to stifle his cry. He laid on the bottom bunk gently and Dean looks up to Castiel with a slight frown.

Lying down hurts a lot, but Castiel slicks up two fingers and inserts them into Dean’s hole without warning. A press against his prostate and he can almost forget about the pain. Castiel rubs it and fingers it and just as Dean can feel himself rising to the edge he stops and pulls out. He bites his own marks up Dean’s chest and mouths against his neck.

Dean pushes him away as soon as he tries for his lips. Castiel just doesn’t want to learn. No kissing is his rule. Castiel attempts to break it every time.

Two fingers are back at his hole, pushing in and out hard and fast making Dean’s cock perk up again after the lost contact. He squeezes his legs around Castiel’s waist, knees digging into the man’s ribs.

“I’m gonna fuck you so slow,”

Dean whimpers in response. It’s not by choice, Castiel’s fingers are nudging against his prostate achingly slow.

“I’m gonna push in while you’re still tight, and mark you up. Keep still for me, Dean.” Castiel’s voice rumbles in his ear.

Dean gasps as Castiel’s cock breaches him and goes in its entire length. Deans hands fly to Castiel’s upper arms but Castiel just pauses and pulls Dean’s hands from him and forces them to stay at his sides. Instead, Dean clutches at the bed sheets, stiff with starch and well-worn from years of use.

Castiel smiles at him, it’s oddly sweet as he pulls out and pushes back in again at a pace so tenuous Dean feels his entire body lock up and want more. He tries to buck up into the movements but it seems Castiel wasn’t kidding when he said slow.

The way Castiel is looking at him, eyes roaming over his body, eyeing up the bruises with disdain, this isn’t just sex. Dean shivers. This is making love, and it makes his skin crawl, but he can’t bring himself to do anything about it. The glide of Castiel’s penis inside him provides a gentle drag. Deans breath hitches and he holds it, lungs burning just as Castiel’s size is burning his insides through the aching stretch.

A finger runs down his cheeks and hovers over his lips, trying to gain access but Dean doesn’t let him. He watches a frown appear on Castiel’s features and the man stills his pace, pushed up fully inside him and filling him to the brink. The tightness pulls at his muscles, feel like it’s pinching his insides even though he knows it’s not.

Dean lets his lungs give out and opens his mouth for Castiel. Castiel’s thumb slips in and holds down his tongue. Dean’s tempted to bite him, just for stopping but soon enough the pace resumes, deadly slow. Castiel’s other hand presses on his bruises, making Dean groan from the pain, around Castiel’s thumb.

Dean's thighs begin to quiver. The pace is so slow that he's barely noticed his orgasm creeping up on him. The feeling pools in his stomach, makes his hands sweat where they’re clutched in the sheets. He’s going to have nail marks bitten into his hands from clenching them so hard. He anticipates the edge but it doesn’t feel like he’s ever going to get there.

“Please,” Dean rasps.

Castiel smirks. “For you, my pet, anything,”

Dean bucks his hips up hard with a scowl even though Castiel asked him to stay still. “I ain’t your fucking pet.”

Castiel just chuckles and drives his cock in hard against Dean’s prostate.

“Ah!” Dean yelps. Castiel’s free hand covers his mouth and the distraction of the hand causes him to completely miss the fact he’s orgasmed all over his stomach.

“Good, pet,” Castiel leans down, squashing Dean’s come between them and kissing the back of his own hand where it’s over Dean’s mouth. Deans pinned and he can’t squirm out of the way. Several more thrusts and Castiel comes inside him.

Castiel is pulling out, wet sloppy mess following uncomfortably, and Dean turns on his side. Fuck if Castiel is sleeping on the bottom bunk. He can use the top one, Dean is stiff and achy and he has zero interest in moving—or sleeping beside Castiel.

“I’m not your fucking pet.” He grouses before shutting his eyes.

If Castiel crawls in behind him, spooning him and keeping a tight, possessive hold on him, throughout the night. Then Dean doesn’t stir nor kick him out.

He wonders, while awake in the middle of the night, if he’s glad Castiel has sex with him. He can’t particularly fathom time here without a warm body. The contact is addictive. As much as he doesn’t want it, he does.

This place is gonna fuck Dean up… but there’s no escaping it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this!
> 
> My Tumblr: [envydeanwrites](http://envydeanwrites.tumblr.com)


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